


Private Performances

by Ailette, givemeyoursmile



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Alternate Universe, Imported, M/M, bellydancer!Fuma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemeyoursmile/pseuds/givemeyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows Hips Don't Lie. Bellydancer!Fuma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Performances

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/81180.html)  
> A/N: After I whined about wanting to read fic with bellydancer!Fuma, the wonderful givemeyoursmile wrote Hips Don't Lie. Somehow it turned into a small fic writing relay after that. xD The following drabbles are based on Hips Don't Lie and were written by her (#2) and me (#1 and #3).

#1  
More than anything else, Kento is excited when Fuma vanishes off the stage completely after winking at him one last time. He hasn’t touched his glass since the other man had sat down next to him earlier even after getting a refill and just when he finally reaches out for it again, one of the waiters loudly clears his throat next to him; making him jump in his seat and look up.  
  
“Kikuchi’s asked me to tell you he’s waiting in his dressing room,” the waiter announces, looking fairly bored when Kento goes beet red and hastily clambers to his feet.  
  
The waiter only motions towards the side exit, not waiting to see if their customer needs help with anything else and bustling off to the next table instead to take orders. Kento swallows nervously, looking left and right as he slowly approaches the door; for some reason waiting for someone to come up and stop him. Surely, there must be a rule against customers going backstage? But even though several dancers, waiters and one bouncer pass him, he gets to the dressing room labeled ‘Kikuchi Fuma’ without anyone looking at him twice. Rubbing his sweaty palm over his jeans, he finally takes a deep breath and knocks – only to have the door swing open immediately and be presented with a half-naked dancer who eagerly grins at him.  
  
“You’re faster than I expected, I haven’t even changed out of my work clothes completely.”  
  
Kento feels his cheeks heat up again, about to apologize and flee when a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him inside.  
  
“You can sit and wait there,” Fuma announces as he pushes the door shut and then gestures towards the ratty little couch in the corner of the room.  
  
Still feeling very much out of his depth, Kento does as told and watches Fuma run around the room, gathering his things and throwing them into a bag like Kento wasn’t even there. He’s never done anything like this before; it’s even his first time to ever go to such a club. What is he supposed to do now? Flirt? Or avert his gaze when Fuma starts undoing his low riding white pants?  
  
“So, what’s your name?” Fuma asks conversationally, as if it’s completely normal for him to have people watch him as he changes. With a bit of guilt creeping up on him, Kento realizes that it probably is.  
  
“Nakajima Kento,” he says quietly, focusing on his shoes because he’s starting to feel bad for peeking on Fuma.  
  
“I haven’t seen you here before, Nakajima Kento,” Fuma says, voice pleasantly vacant as he continues changing. “But I do see you every Thursday in economics.”  
  
That has Kento’s head snapping up, mouth opening in surprise and freezing like that when he notices Fuma is almost right in front of him now; wearing baggy jeans and a black tank top as he musters Kento closely.  
  
“What,” Kento says, dumbfounded.  
  
Fuma’s sharp eyes keep watching him closely for a few more moments before the other man finally sighs and runs a hand through his hair, messing up the artful tousle it was in for the performance before plopping down on the couch next to Kento.  
  
“I guess you weren’t stalking me then.”  
  
“Of course I wasn’t!” Kento protests immediately, jumping up and staring at Fuma incredulously. “I don’t even know you! I just came here because a friend told me about this club and I saw you dancing and you were really good at it and when you said you wanted to meet afterwards…” Kento’s voice trails off as an uncomfortable realization hits him; the reason Fuma came to talk to him in the first place must have been to make sure he hadn’t just followed him here. It wasn’t because he’d found Kento particularly attractive or interesting or ‘cute’.  
  
“I’m going home,” he announces bitterly, turning back towards the door only to have the same long warm fingers wrap around his wrist as before and pull him back down to the couch with a yelp.  
  
“Don’t!”  
  
There’s another hand coming up to make him turn his head and meet Fuma’s eyes, apologetic now as they bore into Kento.  
  
“Sorry,” the blond mutters sheepishly before his eyes dart away. “It wouldn’t be the first time, so I had to check.”  
  
Kento swallows past a lump in his throat, noticing countless nice little details about Fuma’s face when it’s this close and then again how beautiful his eyes are when they turn back to him. This is much better than watching him dance on stage.  
  
“Because if you came here by chance, I can ask you out.”  
  
Against his will, Kento finds himself smiling at the invitation before he realizes something else. “How did you know me before though? There are like 400 people in that class…”  
  
It’s Fuma’s turn to fidget nervously; hiding it behind a laugh that makes Kento think he wants to see more of it. “You came late on the first day and stumbled right in front of my desk. I thought you were kinda cute.”  
  
“Oh really,” Kento says, grinning at Fuma smugly and making the other man roll his eyes.  
  
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, you were drooling all over yourself watching me dance just a few minutes ago.”  
  
As if to make his point, Fuma sits back just enough to give Kento a good view when he provokingly lifts the hem of his tank top to show off firm abs and just a teasing glimpse of hair.  
  
“I definitely didn’t forget,” Kento says, sounding a little breathless as he tries (unsuccessfully) to pull his eyes back up.  
  
“That’s good,” Fuma decides with a grin and edges forward until he all but sits in Kento’s lap and the other man’s hands settle on his hips almost automatically. “Because I promised you a private performance, didn’t I?”  
  
#2  


Waving off his friends' invitations to grab a bite, Kento scribbles down the last of his notes and slowly starts to pack his things. He had tried looking for Fuma but in a class of 400, it was difficult with people coming and going and he had soon given up in favour of paying attention to his professor instead. Casually slinging his bag over his shoulder, Kento turns to leave and is startled when he finds Fuma standing just next to him with a wide smirk on his face and steps back to place some distance between them.

"Too close?" Fuma teases, stepping closer to Kento again. "You certainly didn't seem to mind the other night."

Flashes of memory invade Kento's mind; the passionate grinding of hips, the demanding soft full lips. His face starts to heat up rapidly and he obstinately stares at the floor.

Seeing how Kento's cheeks are tinted red and the pout growing on his face, Fuma snorts with laughter before lifting a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to hide his amusement. "You do know that you can look at me right?" Fuma says, eyes twinkling with mirth. Leaning forward, he whispers into Kento's ear. "I'm fully clothed today."

He's relieved when Kento lifts his gaze to meet his, lips twitching upwards to form a smile. Grabbing Kento's wrist, he pulls him away from his seat towards the exit. "Let's go get some lunch. I'm starving."

  
  
#3  
  
When Fuma ends his set and quickly bows to his cheering audience, he lets his eyes sweep over the room full of people for a few seconds longer than he usually would just to make absolutely sure that Kento really is nowhere to be seen anymore. He’s frowning as he makes his way off stage, absently stripping out of his sorry excuse of a shirt on his way and ignoring the catcalls he’s getting. There’s only one person whose cheering he actually yearns for right now, and that person vanished somewhere during his second set of the night.  
  
He hurries to his green room more so than usual, hoping that Kento is at least waiting for him there like he always does on the nights Fuma has work. Opening the door and immediately scanning the room, Fuma exhales quietly in relief when he sees the familiar figure hunched over his phone on the couch.  
  
“There you are. What happened? Don’t like to see me dancing anymore?”  
  
His tone is light and playful, because he knows the answer to that already. If he didn’t like it, Kento wouldn’t come back here as early as he could every time Fuma danced, watching with dark eyes as Fuma moved on the stage, and doubtlessly stripping off the little clothing Fuma wore during his performances with his eyes.  
  
Present Kento grunts as he finally looks up from his phone, mustering Fuma as the other man moves to sit down next to him. There’s something different about it and Fuma can tell, but doesn’t get a chance to ask again before Kento’s yanking him forwards and into a messy kiss, making him yelp in surprise even though the sound is swallowed by Kento’s lips.  
  
“I love watching you dance,” Kento finally pulls back enough to whisper and Fuma has to swallow as their eyes meet again, because the way Kento is looking at him right now is unmistakable; even if it weren’t for long fingers running up his abs and making Fuma suck in a quick breath. Where did all the air in his lungs go?  
  
“But sometimes I can’t stand all the other people doing the same. I just want to go over to that group of girls that were cheering for you and tell them to shut up. I want to punch the guy who tried to stick you his number during your break and,” Kento growls lightly and Fuma can feel a shudder run down his spine at the sound. A very, very good shudder. “I want them all to know you belong with me and that they’re lucky they even get to watch you move those hips.”  
  
In general, Fuma doesn’t react well to jealousy or jabs about his job. With Kento though; Kento, who is usually so mild mannered and polite – seeing that same Kento getting possessive over him to the point where he can say things like that without blushing, makes him feel hot and cold all over, his voice sounding as if he’s in a trance as he leans forward to whisper into Kento’s ear,  
  
“Let me make it up to you.”


End file.
